The Things I Learn
by morningsong101
Summary: It's rare that a civilian witnessed a mission and overheard classified info. Never had a young teen been that civilian. Instead of cancelling her, it's decided she will be recruited. Will this secretive girl survive living her formative years in Division?
1. Cameras and Shadownet

Disclaimer: I do not own Nikita. If I did, there would be more steamy moments between Alex and Micheal, and more intense moments between Micheal and Nikita...just saying...

There were gunshots heard through Micheal's earpiece, then silence. The people in the room sat for a moment, waiting anxiously for a confirmation nothing had gone wrong. That their best agent hadn't been shot dead.

"Target confirmed dead." Micheal reassured them.

Each showed their own signs of relief-Birkoff's none too subtle release of the breath he'd been holding and trade-mark smirk, Percy's triumphant smile, Amanda's small little sigh and that delighted smile that meant she was pleased at the moment.

"Any complications-besides the ones that happened earlier?" Percy asked. Their target, a powerful mafia member, had wandered away from any store or street cameras, rendering Birkoff's Shadownet services nearly useless.

"Jackson got shot in the arm, no serious damage. Other then that, no sir." Micheal reported.

"Sophia," Amanda said warmly to one of the tech workers. "Please go let Dr. Morris know Jackson will be stopping by."

Sophia, a rather new agent, nodded and quickly abandoned her seat to run Amanda's errand.

_Coming in here, ordering my team around,_ Birkoff thought, irritated but used to this. Besides, he wasn't going to complain to Amanda-she'd probably pull his teeth out when he went to sleep or something wicked like that.

Suddenly, Micheal cursed, surprising most of the recruits.

"Micheal?" Percy asked. Micheal was a man of proper speech, only using coarse language when outrageously upset.

There was a whooshing sound blowing through the speakers; Micheal was running.

"Micheal, report." Percy ordered.

"There's a kid." There was a small pause. "I think she saw everything."

"Get her, now." Percy snapped worriedly.

Birkoff hurriedly searched through the security footage, trying to find Micheal, and probably Agent Marcs, and this girl. The shooting had happened in an alley behind a drug store, so that's where he started. The first couple of cameras, nothing. Then-there! Shadownet succeeds.

Birkoff switched camera viewpoints as necessary as the room stared at the screens. Micheal was quickly closing in on the girl, having the longer stride and the stronger legs. Marcs followed right behind him. The girl, a little redhead, ran ahead of them screaming. Unfortunately for the girl, the street was deserted. There was no one else to witness her being chased and grabbed by two armed men.

"Percy, what do-" Micheal gasped in air. "I do?"

Percy was silent for several moments. "Amanda, what do you recommend?"

Amanda looked thoughtfully at the screens. At the corner of one the girl and her attackers were fighting. Birkoff wanted to press the mute button, hearing a child plead for her life was not something he ever wanted to hear. Ever. Marcs held down her kicking legs, narrowly missing getting kicked in where the sun don't shin. Micheal switched between keep her hands down and pinning her down in general. It was a scary sight.

"How old does she look?" Amanda asked.

"She-" a grunt of exasperation, timed perfectly with an attempt on her part to punch him. "looks about fifteen."

"Any identification on her?" Amanda asked.

Micheal instructed Marcs to check for ID.

"No, but she dropped a bag a block back." Micheal answered.

"Runaway?" Amanda asked Percy.

"Might be." Percy agreed.

"Bring her in." Amanda suggested.

"Amanda..." Percy said.

"A decision soon would be nice." Marcs growled into the earpiece.

"She's clearly seen, and probably heard, too much. There are only a few options-terminate her or bring her in." Amanda reasoned.

Percy weighed his options. He had ordered children killed before-Birkoff very clearly remembered the Udinov case, he had never quite gotten past that-, but it always weighed heavily on everyone's minds.

Birkoff braced himself, waiting for Percy to order the girl be put to death.

"Bring her in."

"Sir?"

"Bring her in. We'll see what happens after that. I'll have Ralph bring in the bag." Percy said.

"How do you suggest I get her there?" Micheal asked. The girl was still struggling.

"I'm sure you'll figure that out." Percy said confidently.

"Just knock her out." Birkoff suggested.

"I'm not going to-"

"It's better then tying her up and gagging her. This way she'll sleep through the ride here." Birkoff muttered.

Micheal ordered Marcs to go back for Jackson, who had fallen behind, and search for tranquilizers in the van. Micheal pulled the girl upright, starting a whole new round of struggling and crying. Micheal was heard trying to calm her, or at least trying convince her to stop struggling, eventually locking her arms behind her back.

"She's a fighter." Amanda commented.

"Not a good one." Percy replied.

"Most new recruits are never talented in combat." Amanda said.

"She's unconscious, Marcs found the tranquilizers." Micheal said.

"Good. Report immediately if anything _else_ goes wrong."

** Okay, so what do you think? I know it's short, as in, super short, but it's just sort of test-chapter to see if anyone's interested. I'm not sure if I like this chapter, the scene wasn't like how it was in my head, but when does writing ever really turn out that way? Plus, the grammar and such may not be that great, sorry.**

** Anyways, reviews are always loved, and flames are appreciated. Hope you liked it so far!**


	2. Bright Lights and Metal Doors

I pressed my face into the pillow and breathed in deeply, not quite ready to wake up. An odd smell filled my nose, and I blinked my eyes open, more awake then I wanted to be. My eyes were assaulted by bright white, then the man in a gray suit. I bolted upright. His face-his blue eyes, his brown hair-brought everything to the front of my mind.

Oh, god, no.

I had seen a shootout, heard _him_ tell someone that their 'target' was dead, and the only injury was a man named Jackson getting shot in the arm. And then I ran, and he and another guy named Marc...they had _shot_ me.

"Scarlett, I need you to calm down." the tall man said cautiously.

"How-" I cleared my throat, it was a little dry. "how do you know my name?" I pulled the blanket up to my chest, realizing I wasn't wearing my cloths. I glanced down quickly. I was in a white long sleeved shirt and black sweats. I blushed at the thought of someone else undressing me and felt scared of what I knew they must have seen under the the fabric.

He pulled out a metal chair and placed it to the side of my bed. He was blocking my way to the big metal door.

"My name is Micheal. I work for the government." he said slowly.

I stared at him. The government? Was I expected to believe that?

"I know that in itself is a lot to take in, Scarlett. But it's true." Micheal said.

"How do you know my name?" I repeated.

"We found identification in your bag." he explained. That's right, I almost never took my school ID out of my bag, which was no where in sight. "Scarlett Rosales, right?" I nodded. "You're fourteen." It was a statement this time, and he sounded less then happy. "Scarlett, you're in a unique situation. Do you remember what happened last night?"

"Yes."

"What you witnessed was a secret group of the government eliminating a rising threat to our country. The man we took down was a mafia member threatening to attack government officials. However, this was not meant to be witnessed by any civilians." Micheal said.

I had read dozens of stories like this-a person finds out about a secret government group and then gets killed to ensure their silence.

"What are you gonna do?" I asked, doing my best to sound brave.

"Well, that's a complicated question. Killing children is not something we want to do," I wanted to protest that I was not a child, but thought better of it. "so we have decided to give you chance here at Division."

"As in, me working here?" I asked. I had to be hearing this wrong, or maybe I was just delusional. That would be fine by me.

Micheal shook his head. "Not yet. There's training before you become an agent. But this is where your situation gets more complex. You're fourteen. The ages of the other recruits range from seventeen to twenty four, all ages that it would be acceptable to be an agent. You, being at least three years too..."

My head began to throb. He talked a little more before noticing I had lost concentration.

"I'm sorry, this is a lot to take in, especially since you just woke up." Micheal apologized once he had regained my attention. "We'll talk more about this later."

I nodded.

"You can remain here for the rest of the evening. Girl's showers and bathrooms are down the hall and to the left. If you get hungry, just flag down one of the patrolmen who will take you to get food. Understood?" Micheal asked, rising from his seat. He placed the chair back underneath the the metal desk.

Another nod.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, twenty five minutes after the lights turn on. Get some rest, Scarlett." Micheal said, knocking on the door. It was opened by a large, muscular, bald man in all black. I caught a glimpse of a gun in his pocket and my breath hitched. The door closed.

The silence was deafening, but I could fill it with my thoughts. Which, by the way, were a complete and total mess.

The odd smell from earlier was suddenly identified: it was sanitation. Like in hospitals.

He had called this place Division. This place with the while walls, the white floor, the white sheets, and the white pillows, and the metal doors, desk, chair, and bed-frame. Don't forget the constant bright light.

I laid back down and closed my eyes so I didn't have to stare at the lights.

This government thing, it was happening, and I was here because I just had to follow the cat down the alley. Damn thing disappeared when the first shot rang out. What was I going to do now? My family would be looking for me, would they have a chance at finding me? Or was it better that they didn't? I obviously wasn't allowed to just walk away from this.

I bit my lip anxiously. Some sort of training had been mentioned, followed by the word 'agent', and then something about my age. I was the youngest person here and it was problem.

Feeling restless, I sat up again. A shower would be nice, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to go out there. I eyed the other door that was smaller than the one that led to whatever the hell was outside this room. I crept over to it, cringing as my feet met the cold floor with each step. I opened the door and found a closet. There were three white shirts, one with long sleeves, short sleeves, and a tank, then gray shirts in the same style, then black shirts in the same style. Then there were black sweatpants like the ones I had on now and gray sweatpants. Finally there were two jackets, one black and one gray. The wall was lined with sneakers, each pair stuffed with socks. I snatched a pair and pulled them quickly onto my feet. Next I peaked into the two drawers in the wall, one filled with many different types of underwear and the other with bras, both everyday ones and sports bras. All the undergarments were exactly my size, disturbingly enough.

I glanced again at the door. Going to the showers would give me a chance to see what was out there before I had to venture out tomorrow with Micheal.

I grabbed a gray long sleeve and another pair of sweatpants, along fresh undergarments. The jacket wasn't necessary yet. I turned the handle, wondering if I would have knock for someone to let me out. It opened, revealing no one in the hallway. I glanced one way and then the other before stepping out. The lights out here were just as bright as the ones in my room. Large metal doors dotted the cement walls. Feeling silly, I hugged my cloths to me, nervous about running into anyone. At the end of the hall I looked right and saw more doors, the same to my left. But I turned left anyways and looked for a something like a sign to tell me which door was the girls bathroom. There was a little sign on a door with the circle and the triangle forming a girl.

There were five sinks below a large mirror. I grimaced when I saw how wild and curly my short red hair was. Despite having been asleep ten minutes ago, I looked tired. Under closer inspection, I realized bags were starting to form under my hazel eyes, a result from my irregular sleeping schedule.

Each shower was in a stall, thank god. Opening a cupboard I discovered regime of hair products. I took the most familiar ones, grabbed a soft towel and draped it and my cloths over the top of the door.

The warm water felt good on my tense muscles. For a few minutes I stood there, trying to relax. Absently, I started washing my hair. My eyes locked on the scars on my arms, most on my left, and many of them faint. I sighed and dropped an arm to trace a cut on my thigh. I didn't want to meet who had seen these. They weren't anyone's business but mine.

It was just as I was finishing conditioning my hair that I somehow heard the door open. A few seconds later, the shower a few stalls away from mine turned on. I finished as quickly as I could, toweled off, and redressed. I fled the room before the other finished.

After I was safely (a term I used very loosely at this moment) in the room and crouched on my bed, I breathed a small sigh. I begun brushing my hair out with my fingers nervously. I did this for several minutes, trying to just relax. Whatever calm the shower had given me was gone. Poof.

It wasn't like I didn't have good reason to be nervous-just nervous, not scared, I swear-. I told myself. The person could have been some sort of assassin. Or psychopath. Or both.

I felt myself start to shake. At least at home the only psychopath I had to really worry about was my sister, and she could be easily handled. She didn't have gun-well, at least as far as I knew.

Did she know I was gone yet? Did Mom and Dad realize it yet? Or maybe they think I'm still at Cora's and Mom was cursing my existence under her breath for not washing the dishes and vacuuming before she got home from work? It was a possibility.

My vision was getting blurry. I closed my eyes, it was easier not to be tempted to cry that way. Feeling incredibly homesick and tired, I laid my head down on the pillow, my damp hair making me shiver.

I wanted to go to sleep and stay that way.

Usually I could sleep through just about anything. But those lights blinking once, twice, three times was like the end of the world-impossible to ignore. And they didn't turn off.

Sleepy and dazed, I searched for a light switch. Not finding one, I groaned and covered my eyes. I felt myself doze off when just a few minutes later the lights started blinking again.

Damn.

I sighed irritably and pushed myself up. A lock of hair fell across my face and I slapped it away. Remembering what Micheal said about coming by twenty or twenty five minutes after the lights came on, I forced myself out of bed and to the closet, taking out a fresh dark gray long sleeve, black pants, and black jacket and changing. I pulled on socks and sneakers, taking my time tying the shoes.

Someone knocked on the door. Had it already been twenty minutes?

"Are you decent?" it wasn't Micheal.

"Um, yeah." I said.

It was the bald guy. He took just a few steps in, stretched out his hand, and handed me a bag. He left almost immediately. I felt a little better seeing there was hygiene products in the bag: a black comb, floss, and those little things you put on your fingers to brush your teeth with when you didn't have a toothbrush. It didn't taste good, and my hair was putting up a fight. It would be nice if my hair was long enough to be put in a ponytail.

A few minutes later, another round of knocks sounded through the door, this time sharper. The door opened without hesitation.

"Ready?" Micheal asked.

I placed the bag on my desk and nodded. Micheal turned and left, clearly expecting me to follow.

"Breakfast here last thirty five minutes, enough time to socialize with your fellow recruits and eat. Eat quick as possible today, because afterward you'll be meeting my colleague, Amanda." Micheal said. His said the name like it was one of those celebrity names that was just one word. "Amanda will help you adjust to Division."

So in other words, she was like a guidance counselor in high school-if that was true, then she was pretty useless.

"Don't be intimidated by the other recruits, Scarlett. And when they start asking you questions, you are free to say no." Micheal said, giving me a look. I had a feeling that he didn't want the other recruits to know too much about me and how I got here.

We came to an open area. Other people, older people, were lining up at a sort of buffet table and sitting down with others, most chatting quietly. I stood nervously at the top of the stars as some of them noticed me and pointed me out. Micheal gently nudged my shoulder to get me moving.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." he said.

The line at the buffet table was pretty short. I grabbed a metal tray, picked up two slices of toast and an apple and walked away before the person in front of me really had time to ask me anything. I still hear what he said to the guy in front of him.

"Damn, is that a kid?"

I blushed and sat down at an empty table that seemed out of the way. On the first bite, I realized I was actually pretty hungry; made sense, considering I actually hadn't eaten for over twenty four hours. The toasts was gone quickly.

And then, like in a horror movie, a shadow fell across my table and didn't leave. I looked up.

She was tall and slender, and had long brown hair in a ponytail. Thin rimmed glasses covered brown eyes. She looked awake and pumped.

"Got a name?" She asked.

"Scarlett." I said. "You?"

"Anna." she said. "Care if I sit for a moment?"

Well, as a matter of fact... "Go ahead." I said instead.

"Arrive recently?" Anna asked politely.

I nodded. "You?"

Anna laughed. "No, been here for nearly ten months."

"Oh. That's..." I couldn't exactly say 'cool'.

Anna didn't seem to notice. "Speaking of time...how old are you? You look barely out of middle school."

"I'm fourteen." I said defensively. It's been nearly a full school year since eighth grade, I did not look like a middle school-er.

"Hey, didn't mean to offend you, just trying to learn what I can. Anyways, what are you doing here?" Anna asked.

I remembered what Micheal said about saying no. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Something to do with a prison security system, becoming a prisoner, and being brought here like everyone else-well, minus the security system, I think that's just me. Or did you do that too?" Anna said casually.

She was prisoner, as in, a criminal. Anna, the first real criminal I've ever met. And it was in a government place.

"Wait, if you're a prisoner, why does the government have you here?" I said, scooting away.

Anna peered at me. "Micheal gave you the Second Chance speech, right?"

He did say something about chances. I nodded.

"Then you ought to know." Anna said.

"But I don't. What are you here for?" I pressed.

"We," she emphasized the noun. "are here because Division is giving us a chance to make up for what we've done. You know, become the good guys."

I looked at some of the other recruits. Were all of them criminals? I could be eating breakfast in the same room as a murderer.

"You don't look too great." Anna remarked.

"Think I just ate too fast." I mumbled.

"Yeah, that's not a good idea on the first day. I remember my first day, I felt like I was starving. I ate too much and felt horrible. Which reminds me, don't try the eggs here." Anna babbled. "But I digress, what are you here for?"

Maybe I could just say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But would that make me sound like the perfect target for these people, like I was simply a victim?

"Scarlett!" Micheal's pierced the air. "Amanda is ready to see you now."

** So, was this better then Chapter 1: Cameras and Shadownet? Personally, I think it was, but I'm not the one reading it for the first time. **

** I know Scarlett seems rather spineless right now, but that will change. Right now, she's just freaked out and 'nervous'. Anna certainly didn't help, but I rather like Anna. In my mind she has this thing called personality, something I want to make sure I give my characters.**

** I suppose it's only far to warn you that there will be some serious issues brought up in this story-she's a fourteen year old girl being trained to become an assassin, obviously she's going to be undergoing some serious morality checks. And yes, the scars will be talked about too. I just love angst and drama. :)**

** I would also like to thank _neocreate_ for being the first to add my story to her alert list. That just made my day. And thanks to the sixty nine people who took their time to read my story. And thank you to Zedder for being the first to review! One of the best things to read in the morning is a positive review. :)**

** So...I think that's all. _R&R_!**


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